“Will do.” Gillian reached into the bag for another container. “Your lunch.”
“Good. My gut feels like it’s been running on empty for days.”
Gillian fought off a laugh. That morning he’d eaten at least six of the pastries—and that was just since she’d come in. No telling how many had been in the huge box originally. While he was digging into his food she studied him.
Growing up, she’d always imagine what her dad would have been like if he’d stayed—maybe not Gus Harwood per se, from what her mother said, he was no picnic—but a dad who would have loved his children unconditionally. Been there for them and them alone. Someone to man-up and be the father he was meant to be, not run the minute he got a whiff of some pretty thing who would crook her finger at him. Her dad was anything but what a father should be.
Manny, however, fit the bill to a T.
He cared about the folks around him. Just in the few hours she’d worked for him, she’d seen him give a discount here, wave a fee there and promise to drive out across town later that night to check on an elderly neighbor. Just because.
On the surface, he looked like any small town garage owner: oil-stained hands and coveralls. His gray hair was wild at best and usually covered by a greasy garage cap. But his eyes, his dark brown eyes gave him a warmth that just radiated. They were gentle when he spoke to you, alive when he smiled and a little bit sad when he pulled into himself, sitting quietly.
Like he did while he ate his lunch.
They ate in silence for a little while. Manny got up and grabbed them both bottles of water. “I hope I’m not over-stepping here, but you kinda remind me of my late wife. She was as fragile as an injured bird when we met.”
The food in her stomach grew heavy.
“She had a nightmare of an ex. Liked to beat her for sport.” He took a long draw on his water.
“You think I’m fragile?”
“Not so much that. But you have the same look of wariness on your face. Kinda like you’re always looking over your shoulder.” He shook his head. “You and your daughter pick up and moved across the country—”
“How did you…” She settled her hands in her lap to keep him from seeing how they shook.
“Alabama plates on your car.” He shrugged. “Obviously, I heard about the job or lack thereof. Small towns.”
“I’ve heard that.” She smiled briefly.
“I’m guessing all you have is what was crammed into your car. Which I have to say, wasn’t much. Anybody who goes so far from home with that little bit of belongings… They’re either on the run from the law or hiding from something bad.”
Gillian released a heavy sigh.
“Like I said before,” Manny rested his forearms on the edge of the desk, his hands linked over his food, fingers twined, “I won’t press you for details, not unless you want to share. But for my own peace of mind, I have to ask, are you in danger?”
She swallowed hard and shook her head. “Not me.”
“Your daughter?”
Gillian dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. “Very much so.”
“Her daddy?”
“No. He left the picture long before she was born.”
Manny nodded. “Can’t say that I quite understand what you’re up against, but know that there are many good folks in this town that will bend over backwards to help you and yours.”
“Th…” She cleared her throat. “Thanks.” Her hands shook so badly she didn’t dare finish her lunch. She’d revealed more to Manny than any person she’d know for the last few years. Relief and fear warred in her.
Her first instinct was to grab Heidi the moment she walked in the door, pack her up and head to parts unknown. They were getting too involved with the residents of Paintbrush, Wyoming.
Quint Walters’s faced popped into her head. The many times they’d moved over the past year, she’d never once missed a soul. Not since they’d left all they knew behind in Alabama. But leaving, Paintbrush and Quint… Her chest tightened and the fear of not seeing him again was stronger than staying in one place. For now.
It didn’t make sense.
Since the moment she became Heidi’s mother, she’d always put her daughter first. Never had time to think of dating, much less romance, but Quint Walters made her want things.
She didn’t need the hassle.
Manny finished his lunch and tossed his trash in the bin.
“Mind if I jump on your computer for personal use? I haven’t checked e-mail in forever.” Like in over a month, she mentally added. They’d been moving a lot since school had gotten out for summer break. No place felt right so she and Heidi kept on the road.
“You go right on ahead.”
Gillian logged into her e-mail account. Only two people had the address and then they only sent her messages, updates really, about Rick Damon and the case the Mobile prosecution was building against him.
Several SPAM messages filled her inbox. Nothing from back home, but one address she didn’t recognize from a month earlier. The subject line simply said, “Hello.”
When she opened the message her blood ran cold. It read: “You can’t run forever. I will find you. I always get what I want.”
She didn’t have to read a signature to know Rick had somehow found her address. She logged out and backed away from the computer. “He can’t know where we are.” She paced the small office. The date of the e-mail was two weeks old. If Rick Damon had found out where they were, he’d have been there already. No warning. No time to run.
“What’s got you so worked up, girl?”
She jumped at Manny’s voice.
“Bad news?” He swiped his hands with a rag and tucked it into his back pocket.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He nodded.
“If you’re checking e-mail, can someone find out where you might be checking it from?”
He eyed her for a long minute. “I can’t say for sure. I’m sure government type people can. Regular folks, it would take some doing, I’d guess.”
She sat heavy back in the chair she’d vacated. “My daughter’s in trouble.”
Manny sat back in his seat across the desk from her.
“My sister always had the worst taste in men. She was dating a real peach of a man when Heidi was little. Rumor had it, at the time, that he was a drug dealer. No amount of talk though could get my sister to see him for who he was.
“One day she came home all freaked out. She was crying and I could barely understand. I finally got out of her that her boyfriend shot a man. Right between the eyes, she said.”
Manny settled his elbows on his knees.
“It was enough to scare some sense into her. She went to the police and became the prosecution’s number one witness.” Gillian picked at a piece of tape stuck to the desktop. “Rick was having none of that. He snuck into the house while my mom and I were at work and killed my sister.” She swiped at a tear on her cheek. “Heidi was there. Saw the whole thing.”
Manny cursed. “Sorry. Go on.”
Gillian ran her finger around the edge of her cast. “He was convicted of a couple of drug charges—stuff they’d had on him for a while. I think they were trying to get him to turn over on someone else, I don’t know exactly, but he never did. They didn’t have enough evidence to get him on the first murder. They didn’t even try him for Becca’s murder.”
The phone rang and she reached for it.
Manny waved her hand away. “The machine will get it.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “A little over a year ago, he was released from prison. Time served. It scared the hell out of me, but the authorities swore we’d be safe, that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come looking for Heidi—but she doesn’t even remember that night. He had no reason to come looking for us.” Her entire body shook. “He started calling then. I told the police and started a protective order.
“Then one day I found him on my front porch. Just sitting there. I w
asn’t taking any chances. I packed up our things and we left.” She took a deep breath. “We’ve been moving around for the last year. This is our fifth town. As luck would have it, I had a job offer in Montana. We got lost and you know what’s happened since.”
“And you got an e-mail from him?”
“It’s a couple of weeks old, but yeah.”
“Does he have any way of knowing where y’all are? Did you tell any friends where you’re staying?”
“No. When we left Alabama, we left all of that behind.” She rubbed the tip of her nose. “I met a woman in Kansas when we were living there. Her cousin was opening a spa as part of a ski resort in Montana. Since we didn’t actually end up there, outside of Paintbrush, there’s not a soul who knows where we are.”
“Good.” He rose from his seat. “Would you be willing to talk to Sheriff Reese?”
Her stomach pitched again. “I don’t know.”
“He’s a good guy.”
She nodded. “I believe you, but I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Thank you for trusting me.”
“Thank you for listening.” She rose up on her tip toes and gave him a quick hug as the bell sounded, announcing a new customer to the shop. She was thankful for the interruption. “Back to work.” An odd calm came over her after telling Manny, sharing her worries with someone else for the first time. Even Heidi didn’t know most of it. She’d been through years of therapy and never remembered the night Becca died. She knew the basics thanks to TV reports and overly-chatty neighbors, however, she’d mentally shielded herself from most horrific parts of it. The therapist said she probably never would remember the worst details.
And for that Gillian was ever thankful. Some things a child didn’t need to remember.
She shook herself and dove into the paperwork set aside for filing. Anything to take her mind off the past. The rest of the day went by in a blur. By five thirty, her neck and back ached—in a good way. “Do you need me for anything else?”
Manny closed the bay door to the garage and locked it. “No, ma’am. We’re good to go.”
The pair exited together and Manny locked the front door. “Can I drive you home?”
Home. Despite everything, Paintbrush was starting to feel like home.
“No thanks. I’ll walk.”
He paused. “If you need anything, absolutely anything, you give me a call.” He handed her a slip of paper with his home phone number.
“You’re a good guy.”
He shook his head. “Nothing I wouldn’t do for anyone.”
“Which is exactly what makes you a good guy.” She waved. “’Night.”
“What’s for dinner, Mom? I’m starving.” Heidi ambushed Gillian the moment she walked through the door.
“I hadn’t really planned anything.”
“But I’m starving.” Heidi’s shoulders drooped and she rolled her head back on a moan. “Starving.”
“I heard you the first time.” She batted her daughter’s ponytail. “Missy invited us over.”
Her head popped up. “What did you tell her?”
“Maybe.” Gillian kicked off her sneakers. “Do you want to—?”
“Yes, give me ten minutes to get ready.” Heidi dashed down the hall.
Gillian slipped her feet into a pair of rubber flip-flips and settled into the sofa. Ten minutes could easily become thirty.
Surprisingly, it was only twenty minutes. “Ready. Come on, Mom. We don’t want to be late.”
Gillian laughed. “Grab my bag for me, will you please?”
“Can I drive?”
“We can walk.”
“But, Mom.” Heidi flipped her lip down in a full pout. She threaded her fingers together and pulled her hands up in front of her pleading. “Pretty, pretty please.”
Gillian bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I guess so.”
“Yee!” The teen jumped up and down and yanked a huge key chain from her pocket.
“Pretty sure of yourself there.”
“I was hoping.”
“Let’s go.”
Gillian let Heidi drive several blocks past the Lunsford home and back. Even though she’d gotten her license in the last state they lived—just before they fled—the teen had had little chance to actually practice.
“Easy.” Gillian braced her good hand on the dash as Heidi pulled the car to the curb in front of Missy’s house. She tried to smile and tell her daughter good job, but she was afraid it would come out more like a grimace and a squeak.
The teen bounded from the car. “Come on, Mom.”
Gillian’s knees shook slightly as she exited the car.
“Hey, y’all.” Missy had the door open before they got to the top of the porch steps. “Dinner is just about ready.”
“Can I help you with anything?” Gillian set her purse on the sofa and pulled up short when Quint Walters stood. “Hadn’t expected to see you.”
He glanced toward the kitchen where Missy had gone. “Ditto.”
“Ryder,” Missy hollered from the other room.
Ryder came tearing down the hall and skidded to a halt when he caught sight of Heidi. His cheeks blazed and he straightened then relaxed his body in an almost boneless teenage stance. “Hey.”
“Grab Heidi on your way,” Missy yelled again.
Heidi shrugged at Gillian and followed Ryder into the kitchen.
“How have you been?” Quint tucked his hands into his back pockets. “I heard you got yourself a job with Manny.”
“That old small town thing again, huh?”
Quint nodded slowly. “Yep.”
She frowned. Several scratches dotted his cheek and he had a welt over his eye. “What happened to your face?”
The corner of his mouth crooked up. “I’m afraid I was born that way.”
“Funny, but no.” She stepped forward and touched the bruise above his left eye. “This.”
He held her gaze. “We were working on a roof and I stepped off the side.” He said it nonchalantly, but his words were a little clipped and tight.
“Geez.” Gillian’s heart sped. “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?” She ran her hand over his shoulder.
He took several shallow breaths. “Ribs hurt like hell.”
Gillian gentled her touch and probed his side. She couldn’t believe he was standing there as if nothing happened. “What did Dr. Hambert say?”
Quint looked away. “I didn’t see him.”
She snagged his chin and turned his gaze back to hers. “What? Why?” She tilted his head this way and that. “Look me straight in the eye.” When he did, she examined his pupils. “You could have a concussion.” She ran her fingers over the scratches on his cheek.
“I’m fine.” Quint stilled her fingers. “Hazards of the job.” He held onto her hand. “But thanks for being concerned.”
A shiver ran through Gillian.
“Dinner.”
The pair broke apart quickly and turned in tandem toward their hostess.
Missy’s eyebrow twitched as a smile tugged up the corner of her mouth. “Y’all ready to eat?”
“After you.” Quint settled his hand at the small of Gillian’s back.
The shiver grew tenfold.
Three place settings adorned the table. Gillian straightened a napkin. “Who are we missing?”
“The kids wanted to eat outside on the patio with Daddy. I—” The phone rang before Missy could finish her sentence. “Hello?” She listened for a minute. “Sure. Five minutes.”
She replaced the receiver. “I apologize, but I have to fill in for Jen at the diner. You two enjoy your dinner.” She set a huge vat of chili in the middle of the table. “I’ll tell Daddy and the kids bye on my way out.”
“Do you think she set this up?” Gillian sat at the table.
“After inviting us both?” Quint helped slide her chair in. “I doubt she’d leave. She’d never know if her evil pan worked.”
Gillian laughed. “You�
�re probably right. Should we go out and join Hank and the kids?”
“Naw.” Quint sat beside her. “Let me have your bowl.”
Gillian hesitated. “Don’t strain those ribs.”
“No worries, I told you I’m fine. How was your first day on the job?”
She handed Quint her bowl and let him fill it for her. “It was good.” Her stomach did a somersault. She had honest to goodness work. Not to mention, she’d practically had a therapy session too—not that Manny was Dr. Phil, but he was a great listener. “Manny’s a nice guy.”
“That he is.” Quint winced as his side bumped the table.
“Are you sure you don’t need to see the doctor?”
He shifted in his chair. “Positive. But if you think you need to look at it for peace of mind, knock yourself out.” Quint stood and held his hands aloft.
Gillian eyed him for a moment. Was this a trick?
When she didn’t so much as move, he un-tucked his shirttails and lifted the edge to expose a deep purple bruise covering almost his entire left side. It took all her willpower to focus on the abrasion rather than the fit and firm abs. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen his bare chest before. She swallowed hard as her eyes followed the light sanding of hair that trailed down into his denim.
Focus, girl. Gillian rose to her feet, too. “Looks nasty.” But how does it taste? Her mind went from one extreme to the other in a millisecond. She cleared her throat. “This may hurt a bit.” As gently as she could she tested his ribs with her fingers.
He sucked in a deep breath.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Didn’t hurt, darlin’,” he said under his breath.
Gillian pretended she didn’t hear him and quickly finished her examination. “I still vote for a visit with Dr. Hambert.”
“Duly noted.” He released his shirt and settled at the table. “Hungry?”
“Always.” Two bites into the chili and Gillian’s eyes watered. “Holy hell. What does she put in this?”
Quint took a bite and swallowed. “Habaneros. They’re a little warm.”
“A little?” She grabbed a roll and alternated bites of bread with the fiery chili. Quint hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy: Paintbrush, Book 2 Page 9